We Are (Not) the Cool Kids
by Slightly Improbable
Summary: Courfeyrac runs a cafe. Marius is his new roomate/employee. Jehan owns a florist. Grantaire is a struggling artist. Enjolras is fighting for who know what cause. Bahorel is in the emergency room... again. Feuilly is overworked. Bossuet is in a relationship with Musichetta. Joly is also in a relationship with Musichetta. Combeferre is a motherhen. Modern Cafe AU
1. Chapter 1

"You've got to be kidding me."

Grantaire's deadpan statement received no reply as Courfeyrac ignored him, smiling slightly and drying a cup that wasn't wet.

Eyes narrowing, and a familiar smirk falling into place, Grantaire inspected the new employee/roommate of his friend.

"It's because he's got a cute butt, isn't it?"

Courfeyrac looked up from the needless drying and followed his friend's stare. His new employee/roommate, otherwise known as Marius Pontmercy, was currently engrossed in cleaning up a table, rear end facing the two onlookers and swishing as he worked.

"Maybe a little," replied Courfeyrac, grinning boyishly and revealing the tiny gap in his front teeth which the girls, for some reason, seemed to love, "isn't he just adorable though?"

Grantaire watched as Marius finished his cleaning, turning towards them and began to stack chairs upon the tables. Honestly, he'd never seen anyone look so happy to be working for his friend, especially considering Marius would be living with Courfeyrac as well.

Adorable was one word for Marius; Grantaire would prefer young and naive. His face was fresh and smeared with freckles that would make a serious game of dot-to-dot; bright eyes screamed of his youth and mousy brown hair was styled accordingly with latest fashion trends, and his t-shirt was from Abercrombie & Fitch. Honestly, Grantaire was surprised he wasn't working there instead of the café.

He was one of _those _kids, Grantaire thought.

"Not really my type," he replied honestly.

"Right, I forgot. You're more into angry, blond activists, that are literally Greek Gods, who- may I remind you – think you're a drunken idiot." Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow at his friend. "Speaking of," he continued before Grantaire could reply, "Apollo should've been here ten minutes ago. Combeferre's text said they'd only take five minutes and it's been around fifteen."

"Surely it's not so bad? Maybe they just misjudged how long it would take them." Marius butted it, furrowing his brows and looking between his employer and stranger. Immediately afterwards he turned to Grantaire, holding out his hand to shake and introducing himself, "You must be a friend of Courfeyrac's, right? I'm Marius and we've just moved in together. Wait- no- not like that! I mean- I'm his new roomate/employee!"

Yup, Grantaire concluded as he watched the colour filling Marius's cheeks, definitely naïve. However, before he could respond, the door to the cafe abruptly burst open and the sound of two young men arguing filled the room.

"-regardless, that doesn't mean you start a fight with someone." One of them said firmly, adjusting his glasses and pulling the blond man up.

"I maintain that he started it." The blond retorted petulantly, trying in vain to push the rebelious curls from his vision. "He punched me first- all I did to 'provoke' him was tell him to be more respectful to that woman."

"I looked away for a minute to text Courf and next thing I know your nose is bleeding and you've got some random man by the collar!"

"Sorry, but can I interrupt you and the missus and suggest you perhaps save this for the bedroom?" Grantaire chose that moment to speak up, noticing Marius's complexion go whiter by the second and finding it the funniest thing he'd seen all day. And he'd watched a recoring of 'The Book of Mormon' earlier.

The blond man's head immediately snapped around to glare whilst the bespectacled one placed a hand on his shoulder, sighing and silently encouraging him to let it go.

"See? He thinks I look like a girl too." The blond continued to vocalise his frustrations, albeit less angrily and in more of a dejected fashion which, unfortunately, made it sound more like he was sulking.

"The asshole said you look like a girl?" Couferyac asked over the bespectacled man's cry of, "You don't look like a girl, Enjolras!"

The blond, now known as Enjolras, continued to huff and began to re-adjust the buttons of his shirt as a few had popped out during his scuffle. As soon as he was satisfied he turned to adress his friend with the glasses, "But it's true, Combeferre. Everyone comments on my apparent femininity and no one takes me seriously because of it," looking each of his listeners in the eye, he continued, "look at me and tell me I don't look in the least bit feminine." He concluded, spreading his arms wide and gesturing to himself.

In all honesty, he had a slight point.

Intense blue eyes stared them down, framed by long golden lashes which any woman would be jealous of. His complexion was clear and seemed to be poreless but a healthy rosy colour was visible in his cheeks. The features he had were so delicately carved that if he was still for long enough, he would be reminiscent of an ancient marble statue. Soft, light coloured curls were free to fall around his face and shoulders as they had been tugged free from his hairtie in the fight. The light fading in the window, to Gantaire's amusement, made Enjolras' hair glow and he had to bite back every Rapunzel joke that rose to his lips.

Figure wise, he wasn't frail or short but was more lean and on the taller side, however this wasn't to say he looked muscular. It was more of a hidden strength he carried off, which was rather unfortunate for those who chose to rattle him.

He had a full bottom lip and a defined cupid's bow. While there were small dimples on his face which spoke of laughter, his lips were usually downturned in an almost pouting frown.

Combining all these features, it wasn't any small feat to say that he was angelic in appearance. However, it must be remembered that angels are warriors of God himself.

The blood crusted underneath Enjolras' nose and above his lips attested to that and only served to make him appear even more so.

Enjolras let out a slightly bitter laugh of victory when his friends remained speechless.

"There really is no denying it then." He said with an air of finality.

"Enjolras," Combeferre began, "you can't simply think that because of your looks no one will take you seriously. It's what you say and do that matters."

Looking at Combeferre for a moment, Enjolras debated arguing further before nodding begrudgingly. There was no point attempting to argue with Combeferre, they'd known each other far too long for either of them to really win.

"He's right, y'know," interjected Grantaire, "we don't give a shit if you look like a Disney princess."

A collective sigh that spoke of longtime suffering fell over the group as Couferyac and Combeferre simply sat back to watch the show. Marius continued to look even whiter and more confused as Enjolras rose like a kraken from the deep to Grantaire's taunt.

"And I'm sure you'll be just as pleased to now that we don't give a shit about how much you drink, or the fact that you ask Courfeyrac to 'Irish up your coffee' at 9am- despite the fact that if he's caught selling that to you at that time he could be in serious trouble since he doesn't actually have a license to sell alcohol, especially at that time. In fact, you shouldn't even be drinking at that time, regardless."

"Terribly sorry, Your Highness. I'll be sure to refresh myself with the latest drinking and trading laws as soon as I'm sober enough." Grantaire hardly missed a beat before cracking out another joke, this one more self-depreciating than the last.

"Like that will ever happen." Enjolras scoffed, a bitter look in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Marius was still as confused as ever and looking very much like a meerkat at a tennis match as he whipped his head around the room.

Courfeyrac just grinned, used to this routine, and clapped Marius on the back. He laughed when Marius jumped.

"And just think, Marius! These are only three of my friends!"

The thought barely crossed his mind before his face paled again and he chuckled nervously. It'll be fine, he thought hopefully (read: prayed), it's not like I have any other friends, and I need this. This will be good for me, he concluded.

"Don't worry, we're the cool kids." Courfeyrac reassured him with a definitive nod.

Grantaire's laugh echoed throughout the cafe.

* * *

**Yeah... So this would be my first Les Mis fanfic and I'm just gonna apologise so much for it now. There is literally no plot. I don't know whether my characterisations are correct or not, as I'm trying to update them for a modern era, so I'm sorry... There will, however, be some ships in the name of Marius/Cosette and possibly E/R if people want that seeing as I ship it like FedEx (They died holding hands...! No I'm not crying don't be silly... I just have a barricade in my eye...), so yeah let me know about that?**

**I'd appreciate any criticisms or suggestions or even prompts for ideas! That will really determine whether or not I continue this fic.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**- Callie**


	2. Chapter 2

Working for Courfeyrac wasn't actually too bad, Marius had concluded. He was still valiantly trying to make it through law school, however, whilst simultaneously working, so unfortunately Courfryac's attempts to introduce him to friends had been put on hold. But living with him was easy enough, really. He'd never understand why Grantaire found it so funny that they were living together. To be honest, some nights Courfeyrac wasn't even home until early morning so Marius didn't have to worry about volume control or who had dibs on the tv that night. It was actually rather pleasant.

However, there was that one night when Courfeyrac brought a 'friend' home.

Marius couldn't even look his roomate in the eye, let alone speak to him, the next day without looking like a tomato having a fit. At least he understood now why Courfeyrac didn't always come home and usually didn't bring 'friends' back now that Marius was there.

He still, on the other hand, gladly accepted phone numbers from customers without hesitation, and nothing could put a damper on his charming cheer.

That was what Marius liked about his new friend. He liked how contagious his glee was.

Today was no exception to that as Marius watched Courfeyrac bounce around his cafe, chatting up customers and making a decent profit. The only difference being a pair of thickly rimmed glasses were now perched on his nose that he kept having to adjust.

Marius had asked why he was wearing them, before they opened. As far as he was aware, Courfeyrac had perfect vision.

The conversation went something similar to as follows:

"Courf... I wasn't aware you needed glasses, shouldn't you wear them more often then, like Combeferre?" Marius had asked, like a good friend would, he thought.

"Oh no, I don't need glasses!" He responded, laughing before elaborating, "today, my friend, we are attracting college girls and bloggers. These," he wiggled the glasses along with his eyebrows, "are simply the bait."

All Marius could really do was nod dumbly at that. He never really had an understanding of girls, so he'd just have to trust his friend and hope his covoluted plan worked.

"One more thing, Marius," Courfeyrac placed his hands on Marius' shoulders, "what I am about to ask you is very important to today's plan. Do you understand?"

Marius nodded fervently.

Courfeyrac took a deep breath for dramatic effect before asking, "What does my hair look like to you?"

After gaping for a moment at the mess of dark hair on his friend's head, Marius answered, "It looks like you've just rolled out of bed..."

This statement didn't, however, deter Courfeyrac. Actually, he looked positively elated as his grin stretched from ear to ear.

"Perfect!"

And that, was how Courfeyrac successfully managed to expand his clientelle in less than a day.

Conversly, it was also the day Marius experienced the famed 'Love at First Sight'.

* * *

Now, Marius was aware that, just across the street, there was a florist. He was also aware that the florist was run by a man named Jean Prouvaire, whom Courfeyrac affectionately called 'Jehan'. The one thing that Marius was unaware of, was that Jehan had a rather pretty young employee.

The morning rush had passed as quickly as it had arrived, and Marius was content to just clear tables as he gazed out the window. Seeing as the florist was directly opposite the cafe, the window provided a spectacular view into the other establishment.

Currently, there were no customers and Jehan had braided his strawberry blond hair into a fishtail, allowing his helper to decorate it with small flowers. She had yet to turn around, but Marius could see Jehan's eyes crinkling as he smiled and the girl's shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter.

It was that moment that she turned to sit on a stool facing the window slightly, allowing her employer to fuss over her blonde locks. It was also that moment that Marius had to stop cleaning.

She was perfect.

That was all he could think of. She was just perfect.

Her blue doe eyes snapped up to look at him through long lashes as Jehan nudged her to look, fixing a red flower into a few braids he'd set into her long tresses. Marius blushed immediately and smiled awkwardly in what he hoped was a charming, Courfeyrac-ish way. She stared back for a moment before breaking out into a sweet smile of pearly teeth, a light blush on her cheeks.

That was when something ignited within him. It was a fire that could not be contained and all he could do was grin stupidly as he tried to act casual, leaning on one of the tall chairs and falling over instantly.

His clumsiness only served to make the girl giggle and Marius couldn't bring himself to look away. If he had allowed his stare to falter though, he would've spotted Jehan reaching for his phone, smirking as he texted Courfeyrac who had missed the whole spectacle because he was too busy celebrating winning the fight with his cash register.

* * *

As soon as his phone started to vibrate, Courfeyrac's hand shot straight towards it to read the message.

_Your new employee is absolutely adorable! I think he's smitten._

_- Jehan_

"What..." Courfeyrac mumbled as he looked up to spy Marius most definitely not working. Instead, he was staring straight through Jehan's shop window, fixated on a young blonde girl. Jehan was making heart signs with his hands, and Marius was oblivious.

He couldn't help it, he had to laugh. It was the most adorable thing. But he was definitely better looking than Mr Pontmercy, right?

Switching to the camera on the phone, he snapped a quick selfie, making a muppet face and grinning as widely as possible. He checked the picture; it was terrible, therefore it was perfect.

_But I'm definitely cuter, right!? He and Cosette would be sweet together though!_

Was what he typed back, making sure to add the photograph as an attachment.

He watched as Jehan muffled his laughter upon receiving the text, trying not to distract Cosette or Marius from their staring. Jehan began frantically typing back and Courfeyrac waited impatiently until his phone buzzed.

_Yes Courf, you're obviously the cutest, but why the glasses? Cosette has plans with her father so she'll be leaving soon, but I think she may need to do the coffee run tomorrow morning... ;)_

_- Jehan_

Just as frantically, Courfeyrac typed out his reply:

_I'll explain later and I think that's a marvellous idea! ;) Right now it would appear that my one and only employee is slacking... See ya :)_

He waved dramaticallythrough the window and made a few kissy faces, chuckling when the colour rose to Jehan's cheeks as was his propensity.

Leaving his phone underneath the desk with the register, Courfeyrac sauntered over to Marius. Clapping a hand on his shoulder, breaking the boy out of his revere, he had to choke back another laugh at his expense.

"You okay, Marius? We've still got some customers." Courfeyrac promted him.

All he caught from Marius' reply was a mumbled sentence of "love" and "the colour red". The kid really was a keeper.

"What's that you're on about?"

Marius' head snapped up to meet Courfeyrac's eyes as he replied, with the air of a man who has just experienced a revelation, "Taylor Swift was right. Love is red."

* * *

***Sing song voice* I haaaaaaave nooooo ideaaaaa where this is gooooooooiiiiiiiiiiing~!**

**C'mon! Sing it with me!**

**No, seriously. This is just mostly going to be very drabble-ish as I haven't yet established a definite plotline (besides Marius/Cosette) and it mostly just goes as I think of scenarios and try to keep things as in character as possible. That's what's going to keep bothering me about this. I'm desperate to keep things from getting ooc but keep it modern. I have read the brick and seen the musical/movie, and I have the brick here with me for reference but I'm sure I'll get things wrong from time to time. Please, I'm begging you to call me out on that if it happens and help me with it...**

**Also, on a lighter note! I'd like to thank the two reviewers and those who favourited/followed 'cause that means a lot to me! I will definitely be taking what you've said into serious consideration!**

**Thank you for reading this thing and my little ramble!**

**- Callie **


	3. Chapter 3

On Thursdays the cafe was closed to the public. It was, on the other hand, still open for friends. Those friends being: Grantaire, Joly, Bossuet, Combeferre, and Jehan who was currently on a lunch break.

"You know," said Joly, debating whether the coffee in front of him would scald his mouth, "Bossuet and I haven't met this Marius fellow yet. We're starting to wonder whether you just made him up."

He finally took a sip of the beverage, sputtered slightly, and whipped out a small compact mirror from his pocket to check his barely burnt tongue. In doing so, his movements bumped the bald man, Bossuet, sitting next to him, making his own drink dribble from his mouth and down the front of his old t-shirt. He merely shrugged it off with a laughing comment about it being just his luck, and patted Joly reassuringly that it was fine and that no, no he did not need to be treated for burns.

They were the oddest pair, those two.

Bossuet, being only two years Joly's senior at 25, was already completely bald. His early hair loss was surely just a sign of his neverending string of bad luck. If it could be broken, Bossuet could break it; if it could be lost, Bossuet would lose it; and if it could be tripped over, Bossuet's legs would make a great deal of effort in order to do so. Added to his terrible luck was also his terrible financial situation. Managing money was never his strong suit, and unfortunately he didn't make enough of it for this to not be an issue. None of this, however, would ever leave him bitter. The ability to just shrug things off with a grin came to him just as naturally as his premature baldness.

Joly, on the opposite hand, still had a head full of thick auburn hair, but this didn't stop him from his paranoia that it would suddenly start molting from his scalp in great fistfuls from some unknown disease. Luckily for him, no such ailment had befallen him. The same could be said for the many others which he claimed to possibly be afflicted with. In fact, the only issue with his health worth noting, would be his terrible sinuses. All year round he would sniffle, whether it be from hayfever or the common cold he would be forced to carry several packets of tissues with him. It was safe to say that the young man was a bit of a hypochondriac, which meant there was some humour to be seen in the fact that he was a medical student well on his way to becoming a doctor. However, when he didn't believe he was dying, Joly was actually a rather aimiable young man- if not occasionally a little too energetic.

Despite their apparent differences, Bossuet and Joly actually got on rather fantastically together. They even shared an appartment. At some point, their friends began to question their relationship and how platonic it actually was, but these questions were soon tossed aside when they found that both men were in relationships.

Joly was currently dating a charming young woman by the name of Musichetta. Bossuet was also currently dating a charming young woman by the name of Musichetta.

Their friends had, by that point, given up on questioning them. It was far easier to just roll with it.

"No, he does definitely exist!" Courfeyrac insisted, "he just spends so much time studying." The last part he made a face at, as if the very notion made him sick. "I mean it's not like Enjolras in high school, but it's just irritating." He added on, noticing Combeferre's expression of concern.

"Where is Enjolras anyway? He's usually here." Bossuet spoke up. Graintaire's ears perked up a little at the mention of his Apollo.

Combeferre looked slightly uneasy before speaking, "He said something about being long overdue for a haircut."

"You don't seriously think he's going to-? Is he really still so bothered by that one statememt? It was weeks ago!" Courfeyrac asked hurriedly.

"I don't know," Combeferre replied, "it's not just that one guy. This is something that's bothered him for a while, and you and I both know he's never openly given a damn about what he looks like, so I really don't know."

There was something definitely uneasy in Combeferre's voice at not knowing. Enjolras was and is his best friend, he was supposed to know these things.

"Anyway, Marius does exist and he is adorable. Cosette thought so too." Jehan, as badly dressed as ever in a lurid orange scarf, attempting cheer, picked up the conversation from there.

"So Cosette has met him too?" Combeferre asked, attempting to shake his previous thoughts from his head.

"I wouldn't really use the word 'met', to be honest," Courfeyrac started awkwardly.

"You told me they just stared at eachother longingly like stalkers with restraining orders." Graintaire, not even looking up from his sketchbook, finished so Courfeyrac didn't have to. Currently he was working on a drawing of Bossuet. He liked the way the light bounced off his shiny head that day.

Laughter errupted around the tables they had pulled together at the mental image.

"It wasn't like that..." Jehan still laughed slightly, "it was much sweeter. They're in love." He blushed a little at the end of his statement, but there was still a sort of finality in his tone that no one could argue with.

"And that's exactly why yesterday was so painfully awkward when you sent Cosette for drinks." There was a light irritation in Courfeyrac's tone, but it was mostly teasing.

"I had no idea he would spill so much coffee," Jehan's face grew redder, making the usually hard to notice freckles on his nose stand out angrily.

"Just be greatful it was on himself," Courfeyrac laughed it off, "although, when he ran off to go change, I was left to deal with the customers and the shadow he's picked up." Upon the looks of confusion he received, he elaborated, "It's a girl who likes him, I think she's around Cosette's age. She only really comes here to see him, but she buys a drink so I can't complain"

There were nods of understanding around the group. Turning a customer away, even if they weren't really a customer, was rude and it's not like she kicked up any sort of fuss.

Conversation spiralled from there into more personal topics such as Joly's classes, Combeferre's work at the free clinic, and Grantaire's art commission.

Half-way through a discussion on whether it was Grantaire's nose that didn't fit with his face or perhaps his face that disagreed with his nose, the cafe door's bell rang out. Whoever had chosen to open it completely disregarding the closed sign in the window, pushed the door wide open and walked in, shutting it behind them.

Enjolras, as always, had done exactly what he said he would do.

Gone were the sunshine curls that had once framed his face. Instead the hair was now cropped closely to the sides and back of his head. There were, however, still wavey tendrills of hair on top of his head that he had tried to push to the side and out of his eyes.

It was different, his friends thought as they stared, mouths agape. Although, he didn't look too bad. In fact, appearance wise, he still passed as attractive and would still turn pleanty of heads. That was something he could possibly be pleased with.

Enjolras looked more than disgusted with himself.

* * *

**Round and round the story goes! Where it stops no one knows! **

**So I cut his hair... Don't worry it pained me turning Apollo into Samson... Yeah, he doesn't like me anymore.**

**Also, new character introductions! Yayyyy! Hopefully I got them right, I do love those two.**

**In answer to one of my reviewers: Yes, as you can see Eponine will feature in this fic, just not as heavily as in the canon storyline. I hope that's okay with everyone.**

**And, because I'm naturally curious, here's a question for you guys: Favourite musicals/operas other than Les Mis?**

**As always, thank you for reading and reviewing!**

**-Callie**


	4. Chapter 4

Grantaire was never a great believer in anything. In fact, he took great care not to be one. He would be a cynic until the bitter end, for all it could be was bitter. Things changed, however, when Courfeyrac had introduced him to Enjolras in high school.

Enjolras was different; he was a believer- an idealist, even. And Grantaire was drawn to him like man towards the light of day.

If Enjolras was the sun, then Grantaire was the moon; forever orbiting him as his opposite.

Grantaire believed in nothing, but he believed in Enjolras. Seeing the look on his face after he'd cut his hair had shaken something within Grantaire. The look was something bordering self-doubt, and Enjolras didn't doubt things. That was Grantaire's job.

In highschool, before they'd met, Grantaire had taken to drinking, and occasionally getting high with Jehan. It was the only way he could deal with life, he thought. He wanted to feel something besides the gaping hole within himself.

Academically, he was poor, and his family knew it. His talent lay in art rather than the sciences. Whilst he was gifted, it was seen by his parents that there was no future for their son. In the end, after much arguing, they had decided to fund him going to an art school, but they were unwilling to ever speak with him again unless he, quote: "Got his act together."

If he had never met Courfeyrac and Jehan in school, Grantaire would have been alone. And if that were the case, there was no telling what he'd have done.

Before his parents kicked him out, he'd never actually gotten the chance to 'come out' to them. Grantaire could only imagine how well that would go down. Maybe they were just looking for an excuse to be rid of him and that bombshell would have been perfect. He probably should have told them sooner, it would have meant less church visits.

Sexually speaking, he was never exactly confused. If he wanted the D over the V then that was his business, and if people had a problem with that then tough. He really didn't give a shit. His friends didn't seem to care, and they were all pretty open about who they were.

Although, Enjolras was another story.

For a while, it seemed to have been assumed that he was straight by the amount of female attention he received. However, any girl who had ever tried to flirt with him was abruptly and mercilessly shot down. After that, people decided that he must swing the other way. Male attemps went just about as well as female. Soon enough people just gave up and decided that there must have been something seriously wrong with Enjolras.

Grantaire didn't give up though. He'd finally found something to believe in, and he wasn't ever going to give him up. He'd sooner start drinking non-alcoholic beer.

His drinking habits had always earned him a bad reception from Enjolras, a sober man. But he didn't mind as long as the aknowledgement was there.

Even if the looks Enjolras shot Grantaire were tinted with scorn, he didn't care as long as he was looking at him. Even if his words were biting, Grantaire didn't care as long as he was being spoken to. Even if Enjolras didn't sit with him, he was just happy to be near him.

Grantaire did dream though, that maybe one day those looks and words would be filled with something other than detestation. Love would always come to mind first, but that seemed too far away and fairytail. Putting faith in that ideal would only cause further pain in the long-run, and perhaps alcohol poisoning.

Then again, Enjolras did put up with him. He'd never even entertained any of the other who sought him out. If he truely hated Grantaire then he wouldn't bother to stand for any of his nonsense.

Maybe that had to count for something?

* * *

**I know this is definitely shorter than my other chapters and I'm so sorry... But I never promised continuity! Please don't get angry with me... I already have one pissed off revolutionary to deal with.. apparently he liked his hair more than I thought.**

**So I kinda wanted to get a bit of character-ish and E/R stuff in and I wrote this and it ended up very R-centric... Hopefully this is alright?**

**Updates will probably take much longer than this one from now on 'cause I'll be going back to school next week. I'm only off right now because of study leave and I finished my exams weeks ago, thus I had way too much time on my hands. And y'know just as soon as I've said that I'm probably gonna end up updating really quickly because inspiration struck... It mostly depends on how quickly ideas come to me.**

**With regards to the question I asked last update... My personal favourites would Phantom of the Opera, Wicked, The Book of Mormon, Newsies, Next to Normal, and Blood Brothers! I could probably list more but let's keep it vaguely short and sweet.**

**This updates question: Red - The colour of desire, or the blood of angry men?**

**Thanks to those who read, review, follow, favourite, and generally make me want to be a better writer!**

**- Callie**


	5. Chapter 5

He hadn't talked to Cosette since the coffee spilling incident. That was less than a week ago, and it was _killing _him.

Marius hadn't even asked for her number. He didn't even know where she lived. Although, it would've probably been creepy to ask that before her number. All he knew was her name and where she worked.

If he didn't work fast, some other young man might whisk her away. Courfeyrac came to mind, dripping with his usual charm, and Marius suddenly felt very inadequate. He already knew Cosette far longer than, and it was perfectly possible that there was something going on there. Marius had seen the way Courfeyrac sometimes looked into the shop window.

Courfeyrac could flirt and (literally) charm the pants off of anyone. All Marius seemed to be able to do was have awkward conversations and lose all co-ordination.

"Smooth mooth, Mr Pontmercy... Real smooth..." He muttered defeatedly as he dropped his head into his books.

He had to keep up with his studies, but most times his thoughts trailed back to her. There was really no helping it.

No. Marius had to study so he could pass his exams, get a well paying job, and prove to his grandfather that he didn't need any of his handouts. Also, should things work out between him and Cosette, he would be able to offer a stable future for them both. That, however, was extremely wishful thinking. You had to actually talk to a person before you whisked them away in holy matrimony.

With that thought, Marius began to delve back into the text before him.

Or at least he would have if his door didn't suddenly burst open. Courfeyrac didn't seem to believe in knocking when it came to Marius. Then again, it was his home.

"Hey there, Marius, whatcha doing?" Courfeyrac simply waltzed over to the desk, leaing right over Marius in his chair.

"Trying to study. So if you wouldn't mind..." He tried to hint. Due to his roomate's disregard for personal space, Marius had to duck forward so far his nose was nearly touching the text he was studying.

"Oh, what is it tonight?" Courfeyrac removed himself from Marius' bubble to pluck a book off the desk. "German? But that was last week. You mean you haven't learnt that yet? All you do is study!" He now supported himself on the edge of the desk, staring at Marius in wonder. Honestly, where was the fun in that boy's life?

"Well, actually, last week we ended up going to the movies half-way through because... Hang on a minute," Marius looked Courfeyrac up and down, "are those my pyjama bottoms?"

"Oh, yeah, mine are in the wash. The t-shirt's from Jehan though, isn't it cute?" He replied offhandedly, displaying the bird covered t-shirt by streching it out in his roomate's face. "Anyway, as I was saying," Courfeyrac looked Marius meaningfully in the eyes, "you, my Pontmercy friend, need to loosen up."

Marius snorted, grinning despite himself and attempted to go back to his work. Courfeyrac wasn't willing to give up.

"You know some of those numbers left at work are for you, right?" He looked at Marius as if he was crazy. "All you have to do is call one of them. Did I tell you about the girl who came in last week, the red head?"

Marius didn't respond, desperately trying to ignore his friend but Courfeyrac continued, regardless. As he talked, he leaned further and further accross Marius' desk.

"She was absolutely stunning, and a real sweetheart too," he meant everything he said, looking as though he remembered every detail, "but anyway, I get there and it turns out that she's into..."

From that point onward Marius was intent on tuning Courfeyrac out. There were certain things he didn't need to hear.

"... Apparently she owns the bakery about fifteen minutes away from here. We're gonna get a deal going soon to promote eachother's businesses, isn't that great?

By this point, Courfeyrac's torso was covering most of the desk. It was now near impossible for Marius to study. If he could even get his mind away from Courfeyrac's rather vivid descriptions, that is.

"Yes, yes that's wonderful, Courf..." Marius looked awkward for a moment before continuing, "what's it going to take for you to get off and let me study?"

Couferyac had now managed to get his entire upper body laying on his back over the table, strangely not knocking anything off. He was like a Goddamn cat.

"I'm having a small party with friends here soon and you have to show up." He grinned cheekily at Marius, phrasing it as a statement rather than a request.

"And if I say yes you'll leave?"

"Yup!"

Marius simply nodded, realising he had absolutely no choice in the matter.

Effective immediately, Courfeyrac sprang off the desk, knocking a few sheets and a book off. He cooed his thank yous over Marius for a minute, patting his head affectionately, pinching at and kissing his cheeks, before trotting out the door.

"Oh, and Marius?" He called from the hallway. "Breakfast for dinner in ten minutes and we're watching the Dark Knight trilogy tonight!"

Marius just allowed his body to slacken and his head crashed onto the desk.

* * *

"Hey, can I get a venti, decafe, soy latte with two shots of blueberry syrup and just the tiniest scraping of foam on top ."

Courfeyrac didn't even have to look at his friend to answer. "R, you don't even like blueberries." With that he continued to fill a jar with cookies, pretending that the issue was dealt with. The work day was nearing it's end and he didn't have the mental strength to deal with this.

This, however, didn't faze Grantaire at all; he was just in one of those moods.

"Well damn! I forgot about that. Make it raspberry syrup then." Throughout this he kept the same irritating grin on his face.

If he were a more aggressive man, Courfeyrac would have had half a mind to suffocate his friend there and now with the beanie he'd attempted to cram his wild hair into. There was always the option of terrifically screwing up his order. And, to be fair, it would serve him right for being an ass. Courfeyrac couldn't morally bring himself to sell someone bad coffee though.

No, there was at least some fun to be had here.

There was only one table occupied in the corner of the cafe. Just a group of four teenage girls, and they had already received and paid for their orders, so they wouldn't be needing further assistance. Actually, they were too busy gossiping about 'how hot the guys serving them were' in what they thought to be hushed whispers. In other words, Courfeyrac not only had his ego stroked for the day, but had plenty of time to spare and to talk freely.

Deciding the jar was full, Courfeyrac place it on the counter and mirrored his friend's grin. Grantaire's wavered for a moment, before noticing Courfeyrac's eyes flicking over to their favourite lovesick puppy staring out the window and into another. The two made eye contact again and a silent decision was made between them.

"Marius, stop having eye sex with Cosette and get R's coffee order for me!"

The boy's head snapped around instantly at the sound of Courfeyrac's voice as if he'd been slapped. He paled at being caught slacking and turned scarlet not a second later as the words finally hit home. The girls at the back table trying to muffle snickers only made him blush further. Flustered, he ducked his head and stumbled his way behind the counter.

Marius only nodded dumbly after apologising as Courfeyrac babbled on about how he was going out for a bit, and that he was just across the street should he be required. Before Marius could even question it, his friend was already halfway out the door.

Grantaire said something about a "double soy frappacinno, low fat cream, chocolate shavings" and to "hold the coffee", but Marius was hardly listening. He just looked forlornly out the window as Courfeyrac laughed with Jehan and Cosette.

* * *

**So it wasn't actually that long between updates, was it? I'm quite pleased with how quickly I managed this but I'm still a bit iffy about this chapter...**

**Yes, I do follow playthatsadtrombone on tumblr to those of you that got the small reference up there! My url is hannibubble-the-cannibubble if any of you are interested in my shameless self-promotion.**

**In reply to reviews: This is a modern au so I decided that it would be easier for the plotline to write R as a gay character, rather than confused as he ****can be read as in the brick. Please don't get too angry at me for that. It's easier to keep things quite light that way without getting too angsty at any point, although, that doesn't mean angst will be avoided all together. Kinda impossible for me to do that, sorry people. I think having breaks between humour helps things to run more smoothly and keep a good, hopefully interesting rhythm. **

**As it was mentioned by a reviewer that this seemed more brick than musical, I decided to change categories for the story. Honestly, I agree with that wholeheartedly. The only real musical references you could probably pick up would be that Eddie Redmayne and Amanda Seyfried are my headcannons for Marius and Cosette. **

**Which rather helpfully leads me onto this update's question: Do you have any headcannon actors for these characters? Please tell me down in the reviews!**

**Also, fun little fact, I actually have a playlist on my phone (yeah, ain't got no ipod) for this fic.**

**Thanks for reading, following, favouriting, and/or reviewing!**

**- Callie**


	6. Chapter 6

It would be a lie to say that this was the first time Marius had woken up from a dream about Napoleon riding a giraffe. It would be a lie to say that it was the first time he had awoken to Courfeyrac's terribly off key singing. It would also be a lie to say it was the first time he'd risen late.

Getting tangled in his sheets and flailing to the floor, dragging his clock with him, Marius scrambled madly out of bed. There was a distinct clatter as it hit the floor too close to his foot and he winced. It was half past eight in the morning. The cafe opened at nine. His alarm failed to alert him, and now he was in the shit.

Halfway through his frantic teethbrushing, a thought struck Marius that Courfeyrac should already be in work. Usually he was in earlier to lay things out that day and pick up the flowers from Jehan, because as much as he adored and trusted Marius, there were some things Courfeyrac just had to do himself.

In other words: Why the hell was he belting out Adele at half eight on a Wednesday?

Marius cautiously began to walk towards the kitchen, then realised he still had a the brush in his mouth with a face half covered in toothpaste, and darted back into the bathroom to clean himself up.

Creeping back out of the bathroom, now toothpaste foam free, Marius padded towards the kitchen. Along with two shirts and a pair of pyjama bottoms, Courfeyrac had also filched his roomate's slippers, so the poor beggar was now barefoot.

The sight of Courfeyrac with bedhead reaching the crescendo of 'Rolling in the Deep' and flipping pancakes in a pair of floral boxer shorts (from Jehan?) would have been odd to Marius when he first moved in. Now it was just to be expected.

He did, however, wish that Courfeyrac would actually wear the clothes he stole from Marius. And maybe sing something quieter.

"Why aren't you at work?" It came out a tad more demanding and whiny than Marius had hoped. He cringed at himself for his tone.

"Because we've got stuff to do today." Courfeyrac, however, wasn't bothered by it, and if he was, he didn't let it show as he used up the last of the batter. He looked up from his cooking to Marius and gestured for him to sit.

For lack of anything better to do, and a slight grumble from his stomach, Marius complied. He wasn't exactly an interior designer, but he could appreciate the convinience of the breakfast bar. And he could definitely appreciate the plate of fresh pancakes in front of him.

"Can you even afford to close today?" Marius said between bites.

"Yup, I checked myself and money is no problem right now," at Marius' suspicious look he added, "I even got _Combeferre_ _and Enjolras _to double and triple check, if that makes you feel better."

Marius just nodded his understanding. It was Courfeyrac's business, so he could run it however he wanted. Also, from what time he'd spent with them, Combeferre and Enjolras seemed to be reliable and intelligent people. If they thought Courfeyrac was financially stable, then he probably was. Although, the question still remained as to why he'd chosen that day to close. Marius asked him.

"Because," Courfeyrac paused, plating up his own breakfast, "today we are shopping for the little get together we're having tonight." Courfeyrac now had his own plate of pancakes and was happily tucking in.

"We?" Marius froze.

"You agreed that you would come, and you're not allowed take-backs." Courfeyrac grinned.

Memories of his roomated sprawling over his desk like a giant house cat came to Marius' mind. Ah yes, now he remembered.

"Now you better eat up," he continued when Marius didn't reply, "we're leaving at eleven to go to the store. Oh, and you'll probably see Feuilly there 'cause he's taking a morning shift today so he can join us tonight."

The rest of their morning at home passed fairly quickly. Courfeyrac's animated chatter filled up any silence, and Marius was content to listen to his friend speaking. Although he was a little ruffled at the fact that he would miss an evening studying, the prospect of maybe making some new friends made Marius feel better about the situation. Besides, Courfeyrac would have found some excuse to drag him away from it, or his own thoughts would betray him and Cosette would fill his mind.

Two days ago they'd spoken again.

They exchanged numbers.

Courfeyrac had teased him for the rest of the day, and Jehan just about swooned at how tooth rottingly adorable they were.

Literally all he'd done since then was either text her, or want to text her. Obviously he wasn't going to continuosly send her messages every waking hour. Unfortunately, neither of them had enough time for that.

But it was all just so perfect.

They liked a lot of the same movies, the same foods, even the most of same people. Working across the street was convinient as well. She was just so kind, and sweet, and smart, and funny, and beautiful, and Marius still needed to actually ask her out.

In fact, he had still neglected to find out where she lived. Maybe Eponine would know? No, Marius disregarded the idea, she was definitely younger than Cosette. He doubted they even knew each other.

Wait. That was another thing he hadn't asked. Another really very important thing.

Marius waited until there was a break in Courfeyrac's speech before asking his question.

"Courfeyrac, I was just wondering," he began, making sure he had his friend's attention, "I didn't know if you would happen to know how old Cosette is?" Immediately Marius looked back down at his hands, realising the implications of his question and feeling altogether quite awkward.

"Oh?" Courfeyrac looked like he was thinking, "I'm pretty sure she turns eighteen in a few months. So she's still in school right now from what Jehan's told me."

Marius was twenty two.

Oh shit.

_Why did she have to be a minor?_

* * *

**So this update is kinda pointing towards me doing weekly updates? Just be clear that I am in no way promising that. If it happens, then it happens. But if it doesn't please don't be too disappointed.**

**I am officially back in school now so homework has once again reared it's ugly head... Weekly maths and English homework is what I'm doing instead of updating this thing. Yay.**

**This may seem more like a filler chapter because, let's face it, not a lot really happens. I was going to originally write all the way through until the end of the "little get together", then I decided that it would be too long of a chapter and it would be better for regular updates if I split it in two.**

**In reply to reviews: Yeah, I am so, so sorry for my spelling errors. The real kicker about that is that _I spelt it right in the description. _I make one damn error in the first chapter and it just continues on for the rest and I don't even notice. Anyway, I fixed said error immediately (well, after hiding in a duvet cocoon for an hour) and thank you so much for pointing it out. Please, please make sure to call me out on shit like that because I am really, really dumb and won't notice it. **

**Also, wow. Didn't really anticipate any hate (can I call it that?) on this story. The only thing I can really say to that is, kinda paraphrasing 10 Things I Hate About You, "remove head from sphincter, then type." I already explained my stand on writing Eponine into this, so please don't press the issue. She's a side character who'll only really appear alongside Marius. Unless I change my mind, that's how it's going to stay.  
**

**Sorry.**

**As always, thank you to those who read, follow, favourite, and review!**

**- Callie**


	7. Chapter 7

Courfeyrac was actually a far better driver than Marius had expected. When he was told that they would have to drive to the store, thoughts of his roomate skidding all over the road flashed through Marius' mind like an angry red stoplight. This, however, wasn't the case. Although his rather exuberant personality would suggest differently, Courfeyrac was a model driver and got them to the store in roughly fifteen minutes - completely unscathed, to Marius' relief. Any nauseating feelings he had were mostly down to his realisation that Cosette was, essentially, jailbait and practically off limits. Reassurance from Courfeyrac that she was only jailbait if they had sex was not helpful in the slightest. That information only made him feel even more awkward.

If Marius thought Courfeyrac was annoying in the car, he was absolute murder when they got to the store.

It is a fact universally known that any human being, whilst completely sane behind the wheel of a car, turned into a toddler when pushing a trolly. Courfeyrac was no exception to this rule.

When he wasn't taking running starts at flying down the ailse, he was making abrupt stops and sharp turns. All of which left Marius either jogging to catch up or almost getting a mouthful of Courfeyrac's hair.

Marius was almost certain that, most of the time, his friend thought he was an extra in a music video.

The rest of the expidition was filled with debates over alcohol, food, movies vs music, and Courfeyrac whining about how Feuilly actually took the whole damn day off without telling him. Apparently he'd instead taken a night shift the day before and was using the morning to catch up on much needed sleep.

Shopping with Courfeyrac, whilst amusing, was exhausting and Marius vowed to never do it again. At least he'd attempt to.

* * *

Bahorel was terrifying. He'd been caught up in a bar brawl less than a week ago and his black eye still hadn't quite faded and there were a few scrapes on his left cheekbone. He was also built like a brick shithouse and Marius was pretty sure that was a tattoo peaking out from his sleeve. Marius nearly peed himself when Bahorel clapped him on the shoulder, introducing himself and laughing full heartedly at Marius' bewildered face. Apparently he also was studying law, although, Marius couldn't recall seeing him in his classes very often. He was nice enough though, boistrous and seemed quick to throw a punch, but nice enough.

Feuilly looked like he needed that day off. He'd settled himself into the corner of Courfeyrac's sofa, pulling the brim of his hat over his eyes, and was making a good attempt to be inconspicuous and catch up on more sleep when Marius had practically been flung at him. It was abrupt, however, Feuilly had easily brushed it off and stood to shake Marius' hand. Courfeyrac had told Marius about Feuilly's fan making hobby, and he couldn't help but marvel slightly at the long fingered hand that wrapped itself around his in a firm shake. It seemed as though Feuilly took life as it came to him, Marius both liked and respected that.

Joly and Bossuet were on the other sofa, leaning over each other in an enthusiastic conversation. When Marius had spotted them he had first assumed them to be a couple, only to have Courfeyrac tell him that no one was ever really sure because the two had always denied it. Everyone had just learnt to play along with it until the two explained themselves and their mysterious girlfriend. It seemed confusing, entirely preposterous, and Marius decided to just leave it at that.

He'd already met Combeferre and Enjolras when he'd first started work. Marius wasn't really sure what Enjolras thought of him. Any conversations they'd had were during brief encounters and were always cut short. Usually Marius would try to contribute to a chat between Combeferre and Enjolras but the latter would normally argue any point he made, leaving Marius feeling very awkward and Combeferre looking a tad exasperated. What Marius could really gather from the two was that Enjolras was a deeply passionate person, if not a little quick to jump, and Combeferre had the patience of a saint, considering his group of friends.

Marius was already well aquainted with Jehan, as he was only across the street and Courfeyrac made practically any excuse to invite him over. Jehan was as nice as he was terribly dressed, and Marius could appreciate some of the poetry he wrote. On the other hand, he would never understand the appeal of the more risque pieces Jehan like to write with Courfeyrac. It was more often than not he'd see the two huddled over a notebook on the counter, giggling conspiratorally, and the the next day he'd find out that it was actually one of his notebooks. Opening his book only to find it full of erotic poetry and some rather innaproriate illustrations (courtesy of Grantaire, apparently), was not the ideal way to start a lecture. He liked Jehan though, and he found it very difficult to be angry with him.

Soon enough any awkwardness of first impressions was brushed off and conversation began to flow. It may have helped that the alcohol had also started to flow.

At the start of the evening, topics ranged from how business was going for Courfeyrac and Jehan, to Combeferre's work at the free clinic. It later went to things such as Feuilly's sudden raise at work, and Enjolras' most recent social justice issues. Even later, it moved onto Joly and Bossuet's living arrangements and whether Musichetta would be moving in with them or not. Throughout this, despite the topic never directly relating to him, Grantaire continued to supply dry comments here and there, earning a few laughs from the group.

Eventually, everyone began to taper out into their own smaller chats. Subjects became more personal and the atmosphere was easy.

"I got an e-mail from my parents the other day." It was common knowledge among the group that Enjolras could have been on better terms with his parents. The air in the room changed when he spoke and the look he wore on his face when he mentioned them said enough about their relationship. His family were members of the upper class. His father was the type of person who would golf, not because he enjoyed it, but because he could flaunt his exclusive membership and that the golf club employed pretty young women. His mother, on the other hand, was the type of person who would drink expensive wine through the day, not because she was a connoisseur, but because there was simply nothing better to do other than watch the infinite wealth burn along with her liver.

Enjolras never really could see eye-to-eye with them, but he dealt with it.

They had an agreement that he would accept the money they sent him monthly (which he set the limit on), as long as he didn't have to attend any sort of family gatherings or be mentioned in any reference to them. It suited both of them reasonably well.

"My father apparently saw a picture of me recently on facebook," Enjolras gave a pointed glare at Courfeyrac and Grantaire, sure that it was one of them responsible, "apparently he's _proud that I took his advice after so long and cut my girly-ass Goldielocks curls."_

Grantaire covered up a snort, coughing around his beer bottle. He was only slightly drunk, but "Girly-ass Goldielocks curls" was not something that would regularly come out of Enjolras' mouth.

Blue eyes trained themselves on his slightly cloudy ones before they quickly flicked back to the rest of the group.

"I'm growing my hair back." Enjolras said stubbornly, with an air of finality that showed that he did not require much of a response. He was merely stating what was on his mind.

"Then why bother cutting it in the first place?" Grantaire was quick to ask him, taking a swig from his bottle subconsciously.

In all fairness, Enjolras should have expected that. But he didn't. Therefore, he had nothing better to say other than, "I just felt like I needed a change after all these years."

Grantaire looked over his bottle to Enjolras, "Are you sure it didn't have anything to do with peer pressure?"

He clearly hit a raw nerve, and the look that was shot his way said so. But at least Enjolras was looking at him, and of course he didn't care that that was the only look he'd ever receive. He couldn't let himself care. However, Enjolras' burning eyes and decision to wear a v-neck was making it very difficult.

"Well it's not as if you've ever had that problem. We could pressure you all we wanted - and we've tried - but you'll never change. You don't care enough to try." It was no real argument to Grantaire's question, but Enjolras had clearly been stung and it was far easier to just lash out verbally. And it only fuelled him that Grantaire was, once again, inebriated.

Didn't the man see what he was doing to himself? Didn't he see what he was doing to his friends? To the one's who care about him?

"You're absolutely right," Grantaire nodded and Enjolras felt a twinge of hope that maybe, just maybe, he'd gotten through to him this time. "I don't care what I do to myself, and you don't either so let's just call it a day."

Draining his bottle, Grantaire pulled himself up and left the room to go downstairs. Courfeyrac wouldn't let him smoke inside, and the back entrance to the cafe was down there, and he needed a cigarette. Also, the rest of the booze was in the cafe's freezer, and there was no way he was going to get through the rest of that night without being completely and utterly shitfaced.

Enjolras could only sit there, a look of confusion and, possibly, regret on his face. Grantaire didn't just walk away like that. Grantaire always had a witty retort. Grantaire didn't just agree with Enjolras without an argument.

"Was that your first fight?" Marius piped up from the sidelines. "As a couple, I mean. I know it's supposed to be hard when it's you'r-"

"What?" Enjolras practically shouted, looking vaguely startled and Marius shrunk back instantly. He heard Courfeyrac try to muffle his and Jehan's laughter and snapped around to glare at them, his face turning slightly red.

"Um, well, I just thought," Marius swallowed, trying to redeem himself, "by the way he's been looking at you and the way you spoke to each other... Actually I don't know what I thought." It was easier to just give up at that point, there was no hope for redemption.

A silence followed for a few minutes. Enjolras sat in quiet contemplation as the others looked to him for a reaction.

"Wait," he began, in an uncertain tone which did not sound right from him, "so could it be possible that R _likes _me?"

It only took a moment for everyone in the room to shout variations of the word yes, along with a few cries of "are you kidding me" and, in Courfeyrac's case, finding it difficult to stand up and collapsing onto those occupying his nearest sofa.

After processing the information, a red cheeked Enjolras stood up and followed Grantaire downstairs.

He was taking the last few drags of a cigarette in the open doorway when he spotted him. There was a certain beauty in the way the plumes of smoke curled in the air around him, despite the bitter fact that it would one day play a part in his death.

"Grantaire?" Enjolras called out. He cursed himself when his voice wavered slightly, this wasn't really what he would have planned.

Grantaire flicked the shrinking stub to the ground, grinding it under his foot, before turning to face Enjolras. This was unusual. It was normally Grantaire seeking him out, not the other way around.

"I know I may have come across as harsh earlier in the things I said," Enjolras continued speaking before Grantaire could cut in, "but you should know that I only say it in the hopes of getting through to you. We care about you, and we hate to see you destroying yourself like this." That sounded alright, maybe that would help.

Grantaire resisted the urge to roll his eyes, about ready to reach for another cancer stick.

"Listen," he begain, "you don't need to come down here and preach to me. And you certainly don't need to pretend you care, just to make me feel be-"

"Will you just listen to me for once: I do care!" Enjolras had covered the distance between them and now held Grantaire firmly by the shoulders. "_I care about you."_ He repeated, searching Grantaire's eyes for some sort of recognition or reciprocation.

Grantaire swallowed uncomfortably. He didn't want to move, in case this was all some dream he'd conjured in another drunken stupor. He was afraid that if he spoke, the illusion would be shattered and that he'd find himself crashed out on one of Courfeyrac's tables.

But it feels too real, he thought as he brought his hand up, tentatively brushing a few non-existent curls from Enjolras' cheek.

Enjolras subconsciously took that as a cue and his fingers drifted upward to weave themselves through the dark mess of Grantaire's hair.

Before either of them knew it, Grantaire had already craned upwards as Enjolras had leant down and their lips connected. It was soft at first, both of them testing the water and trying to believe what was happening, then soon changed to a release of years of built up tension. Grantaire savouring every moment because who knows if this would ever happen again, and Enjolras wondering how in the hell he hadn't picked up on Grantaire's hints sooner when Marius spotted them in less than a few hours. Either way, there was no sign of rejection from the two of them.

Enjolras, slightly flushed, pulled away first and looked down at Grantaire.

"If you ever want to do that again, you need to, at the very least, cut back on the cigarettes."

"Even better: I'll quit completely." Grantaire pulled the almost half full packet from his pocket and tossed it over his shoulder, really not giving a shit where it landed, before tugging Enjolras back down to meet him again.

All they heard after that were thumping footfalls, Courfeyrac shouting something unintelligible, followed by the sounds of their friends complaining as they handed each other money.

* * *

**So that was a long-ass chapter and maybe that made the extra wait worth it?**

**Okay, so I really freaking hope I did a good job on this one... there is a reason it took so damn long... Pretty sure I cannot write e/r but I tried and therefore cannot be judged (but constructive criticism is appreciated!).**

**In reply to reviews: Yes! This is my first les mis fic! In regards to Eponine being mixed up with the other characters, I have read some really good fics in which that has been done. But I wanted to keep a bit closer to cannon and not do that. She's the same age as Cosette here, Marius was just a little bit slow on picking that up...**

**Trying to cut down on the length of my author notes so let's wrap this up.**

**Thank you for reading, reviewing, following, and favouriting!**

**- Callie**


	8. Chapter 8

The sound of the front door slamming roused Jean Prouvaire from his sleep. At first he felt a little confused because no one lived with him, let alone anyone in such an apparent rush, but then he remembered Courfeyrac's get-together the previous night.

That was definitely a night to remember; Enjolras had finally accepted Grantaire, and Jehan, along with Bahorel, Joly and Courfeyrac, had cashed in on it. However, If any of them hoped to keep their newfound wealth, then they'd better make damn sure that Enjolras didn't find out they were betting on his love life. Grantaire already knew about the bets and didn't seem to care. His only bet was that Bossuet would lose his, and he was quite right in that.

No one had seen the pair back inside since Enjolras followed Grantaire out. It was just assumed that they'd left earlier than everyone else.

Joly and Bossuet both received matching texts, presumably from Musichetta judging by their faces, which apparently meant they had to return home immediately. Bahorel had left later with Feuilly, insisting that they go to a bar to celebrate. Combeferre stayed until he was sure that Enjolras wouldn't be coming back that night since Combeferre was the one to drive them both there. He wasn't about to leave his friend up the creek without a paddle if something went wrong. When everybody but Jehan had left, Marius made several attempts to sneak back into his room.

Tomorrow was Thursday and Marius had a full day of classes which he needed to sleep for. Actually, it already was Thursday when he'd eventually persuaded Courfeyrac at 2:38am that he had to go to bed despite the whining coming from the other man.

This left Jehan and Courfeyrac to sprawl themselves out on the sofa for a '_Community' _(Britta always reminded them a bit of Enjolras and they had to laugh)marathon. Of course, in the end they also drifted off into a slumber.

That would be, until Jehan's abrupt awakening courtesy of the door.

He attempted to get up from the sofa, but only got so far as raising his head slightly before the back of it brushed something. Very suddenly he became aware of the weight pushing down on his back.

"Marius is late again..." Courfeyrac's breath tickled the back of his neck and he had to supress a shiver at the sensation. "But I'm not late for anything today because I'm not going anywhere." This was followed by Courfeyrac making a point of burying his nose in Jehan's hair and wrapping his arms around his torso.

"That doesn't mean you can stay here, you know," Jehan replied, caught somewhere between squirming away and snuggling closer. He still wasn't quite sure where his relationship started and ended with Courfeyrac. Or even if the relationship he hoped for was possible.

Did he want it to be? Of course. Did Courfeyrac want the same? Jehan could never tell.

"Yes I can," Courfeyrac announced, "because you're not going anywhere either."

"How do you know I don't have to-"

"You already told me you're not opening shop today either, so don't pull that card." Courfeyrac interrupted Jehan, making the heat rush to his face at the mistake.

"I still have to get up," he tried feebly, attempting to crane his head around, "I have needs."

"I have needs too, y'know." Courfeyrac began to play with Jehan's hair, twisting the strands around his fingers and tugging gently on occassion.

"Mine are far greater." And it was with that, that Jehan pushed himself up and off the sofa with a strength he didn't look possible of possessing. He strided gracefully towards the bathroom, and locked the door behind him. In getting up, Jehan had also succeeded in pitching Courfeyrac over the back of the sofa and onto the floor.

Jehan certainly wasn't going to just be a part of his 'Collection'. No, he wanted something more than just a one time fling.

He'd always thought it would be like one of those cheesy, terrible, teen targeted movies they'd watch after a few drinks. The ones where the main protagonist always realises that the one they needed all along was right there. It was always the long-time friend, never one of the many girls (and/or guys) that were lined up in front of them.

Then again, it always did take the main character far too long to catch on.

Scrambling up into a sitting position, Courfeyrac merely stayed for a while, listening to the shower running.

They'd been dancing around this for months. Courfeyrac likes Jehan, Jehan likes Courfeyrac. It was simple! He'd thought now was as good a time as any to make a move and ask him out.

Maybe he should have approached this from a different angle.

* * *

**Is that an update I see?! A really short one posted at midnight... but still an update!**

**Yes, it has been ages... I'm so sorry. I have excuses though! **

**I've actually been on holiday for a week in France and Italy so no writing could be done then. Of course I'm on Summer break now so you'd think I'd have more time to write, right? Wrong! I have a job which I need to go to and that takes up time.**

**The rest is just laziness and writers block.**

**So anyway, this chapter we're getting into a bit of Jehan/Courf! Hoping I'm pulling this off okay and thank you for all the kind comments on E/R in the last chapter!**

**There is some plot coming together in my head for different couples so maybe this won't go ignored as much as I fear. If I can't come up with any plot related stuff, I'll just post a random drabble. That sound good?**

**Thank you so much to those who follow, favourite, and review! You make me want to keep writing, and also terrify me slightly because "ah oh my god people read my stuff oh my god".**

**- Callie**


	9. Chapter 9

Sunlight was streaming through an irritatingly large gap between the curtains and Enjolras winced as he scrunched his eyes further shut. Groaning softly, he shifted his body to get into a more comfortable position. His bed felt harder than usual, and since when did he sleep in an almost upright sitting position? It wasn't until he turned his head and felt hair tickling his nose, did he remember where he was and cracked his eyes open slightly to see if he was right.

On the floor, leaning against the sofa, mouth slightly agape and looking perfectly at peace, was Grantaire. Part of his curls had been flattened, presumably by Enjolras' head leaning on him, but the rest were just as wild as he claimed to be.

Enjolras felt something in his chest tighten as he looked at the cynic. No,_ his _cynic. Could he even say that now?

He hoped so.

Enjolras cringed and buried his head in his hands, careful not to rouse Grantaire, as he though of the night before. That wasn't how he'd have intended things to go. The sudden declaration of affection was so cliched that he'd half expected to be laughed out of the room. And of course - _oh God_ - the kissing.

Was he a good kisser? Was he a bad kisser? He'd never been involved with anyone before so he wouldn't so. It must have been awkward. It couldn't have been anything but awkward.

He could feel the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment.

But Grantaire... Responded?

Yes, he could definitely remember Grantaire's bewhildered but enthusiastic response. He wouldn't be sitting next to him otherwise. Enjolras took this opportunity to study Grantaire for the first time since they'd been alone together, without anyone to catch him staring (including Grantaire).

Dark, almost black hair fell across his forhead and into his eyes in loose corkscrew-like curls. Enjolras thought of how it had felt running his fingers through it, much softer than he'd assumed. Some strands lay on Grantaire's thick eyebrows. His eyes were rather deep set and when open Enjolras could remember the pale irisis. They were such a combination of blue and grey that they almost appeared clear in certain light, unless they were clouded over in an inebriated haze. They didn't quite hold the same piercing blue gaze Enjolras' own did, but they were definitely something he thought should be marvelled at.

There were definite dark circles to be seen under them as Enjolras looked closer. He didn't want to think about how little Grantaire must be sleeping for them to become so prominent.

His nose could be considered rather prominent too. Not to say that it was overly large, it was the way in which it was slightly crooked. Enjolras could remember how it was broken back in their teens; Grantaire was a boxer, Bahorel found out, they decided to go a few rounds. He didn't know if that was when he started to realise he cared for Grantaire, he just knew he didn't like seeing the way he winced as he sat in the school nurse's office, nose swollen and blood still trickling out. He wondered, did Grantaire still box? He knew he was still an artist, and how well read he was, but how much more had he neglected to find out? It wasn't that he didn't remember - he remembered a lot of things about Grantaire - he'd just never been able to just go and ask these sorts of things.

He was starting to understand his friends' reactions to his epiphany last night.

Rather reluctantly, he tore his gaze away from Grantaire's still sleeping form and glanced around the room. It was alright really; television, coffee table, sofa. The basics of a living room. Although, the addition of at least a dozen empty bottles and cans on the table wasn't alright. Not in Enjolras' books at least. They'd have to talk about that, considering their new relationship.

Relationship. Yeah, that was definitely new. Was that what they were in now? Enjolras found himself hoping it was.

Taking one last look at Grantaire, who was still sound asleep, Enjolras carefully got up off the floor. He made sure to shift Grantaire into a more comfortable position, so he didn't fall flat on his face.

It was morning and Enjolras was pretty used to his routine of making coffee or tea when he woke up. He supposed he'd try Grantaire's kitched, it gave him an opportunity to explore as well.

Halfway there he heard a noise somewhere between a moan and a snort. Looking around he saw Grantaire now splayed out on his back, with his mouth undecided as to whether it wanted to be open or closed. The noise was coming from him.

He snored like a damn pig.

It was unbelievable. It was obscene. It was maddening. It was Enjolras' new favourite sound.

* * *

***Shuffles in quietly* Sooooo... uhhh... *swallows nervously* it's been a while...?**

**Yeah, don't know why I haven't posted anything because I've literally had half of this chapter written for weeks but not finished it. I think I had a bit of a block... Still do actually... This is kinda just a bit of fluffyness here to be honest and I hope it's good and characterisation is okay? Literally the only reason I was able to get off my arse and write this was because of George Blagden being a dork on youtube... I think he's just become my favourite person.**

**Anyway let's get on with review replies:**

**First off, I'm gonna have to say this again, but there will be little to no Eponine in this fic, just mentions and glimpses and definitely not a pairing. Sorry, it's just not what I'd like to write about, and if that comes off as selfish then I'm sorry again. True, I have read some good fics that involve that as a side thing but I don't personally want to write that.**

**Thanks for all the good things you're saying about the previous chapters and where things are going! Also, yes Marius, you are in deep shit now... just wait 'til you meet her father.**

**- Callie**


End file.
